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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26413021">to profess(or) to deny my love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiyah/pseuds/aiyah'>aiyah</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the undeniable homiesexuality of higher education [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorks in Love, Engineering Professor Sokka, Fluff, Humor, Husbands, I Still Can't Get Over The Fact That They Are Married, Literature Professor Zuko, M/M, Memes, Oh My God They Are Married, References to Shakespeare, didn't know they were married</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:33:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26413021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiyah/pseuds/aiyah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Some say the world will end in fire,<br/>Some say in ice.<br/>(But most will agree that it happens<br/>during Bolin's office hour demise.)</i>
  <br/>
  <i>- Robert Frost, probably</i>
</p><p>[alternatively: the students at Boiling Rock University find out that their beloved engineering professor is married to the formidable literature professor.]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the undeniable homiesexuality of higher education [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>A:tla</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>to profess(or) to deny my love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i saw <a href="https://firelord-boomerang.tumblr.com/post/628774795782275072/sokka-reveals-that-hes-married-to-zuko-in-one-of">this post about a zukka professor headcanon</a> and couldn't pass up this opportunity.</p><p>unbeta'd as always; all mistakes are mine :')</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦</p><p>It’s a well-known fact that Sokka is one of the best—if not <em>THE</em> best, and that’s with a capital THE—professors ever to grace Boiling Rock University. (And that’s a pretty tall order, considering how the university has a reputation for being one of the most prestigious and acclaimed institutions in all of the United Republic, second to only Omashu University on the United Republic News rankings website.)</p><p>Most students can tell you the story of how Sokka Qanik first appeared on the campus grounds riding a personalized penny-farthing straight into a lecture hall, how the school quickly went up with rumors abuzz. Who was this mysterious man? Why was he riding on a comically disproportionate bicycle? And why was he here—at BRU—of all places?</p><p>But really, it only takes one ill-timed boomerang trick and a miniature explosion in the engineering quad for Sokka to really solidify his reputation as the most terrifically chaotic instructor in all of BRU. The professor is fun and engaging, his classes covering everything ranging from the fundamentals of mechanical engineering to the principles surrounding pointless inventions. Almost every student who goes through Sokka’s classes has nothing but rave reviews about his teaching style and just how fun of a professor he is.</p><p>“Once, Sokka took us on a tour of the business building and pointed out every single architectural flaw to us and told us to build a better building once we get the money.”</p><p>“There was this one time when the power went out, so Sokka spent the rest of class teaching us how to build our own electric generator so we could get the lights back on. It worked!”</p><p>“Oh, remember the time when Sokka spent the whole class teaching us boomerang trickshots and showing us the physics behind each trick? Hella lit, I tell you.”</p><p>“Sokka showed us his prototype for self-revolving meat kebabs, and we debated for the rest of class on if and how different types of meat can self-combust.”</p><p>“Honestly, I’m just happy that Sokka lets us eat in class.”</p><p>(And yes, it’s Sokka, not Mr. Qanik or Professor Qanik to you. “Mr. Qanik is my dad,” Sokka tells his class during syllabus week. “And Professor Qanik is also, well, my other dad. Just call me Sokka.”)</p><p>(Well, the undergrads call him Sokka, the grad students call him Wang Fire for some unfathomable reason, and the rest of the faculty calls him Sokka or Dr. Qanik, depending on their mood that day.)</p><p>So it comes as a surprise to absolutely no one when Sokka’s declared the new head of the Mechanical Engineering &amp; Materials Exploration department—or MEME, for short. (Don’t laugh). And then it suddenly becomes that much more difficult to get into his introductory class, MEME101 (A Study on Science), which always maxes out during course registration.</p><p>(Always. Don’t even <em>ask</em> the folks behind BRCourseOpen about it. Trust me. They’ve got their work cut out for them already.)</p><p>Korra counts herself to be one of the lucky few who manage to snag a spot in the coveted class. Sure, she’s a sophomore (and that <em>tiny</em> bit of seniority might’ve helped), but that doesn’t count out the fact that she fought tooth and nail to get this spot. (It’s probably worth noting that Korra happens to know a friend-of-a-friend who <em>coincidentally</em> happens to be the head of BRCourseOpen.) Korra’s only heard great things about the course, and the fact that the darling of the engineering department happens to be teaching it? Just an added bonus.</p><p>(Or maybe she’s just there for the memes, especially because Korra’s actually an anthropology major who’s just starting in on her thesis and <em>what humanities major, in their right mind, would ever think about taking an engineering class?</em>)</p><p>(Answer: memes. Lots of them.)</p><p>By the end of the first week, Korra realizes that MEME101 does, indeed, live up to its reputation as ground zero for prime meme deployment. When Sokka shows up in a dark hood and stares passionately into a full-length mirror while talking to himself about the meaning of physics, Korra surreptitiously scrolls through BRU’s minor requirements on her phone and smirks. Four more classes and she’ll be a certified MEME minor? Sounds like music to her ears.</p><p>The best part of class—besides the boomerangs and the impromptu sword-swallowing session that impales itself straight into a discussion about the wonderful physics of the human body—is the fact that Sokka is a fantastic storyteller. Seriously. The guy can probably wax poetic about the most mediocre chicken wings for three hours and it would <em>still</em> be more interesting than Professor Pakku Imiq lecturing about human skull indentations for twenty minutes. MEME101 is one of the few classes where Korra actually sits up and pays attention, and it’s not just for the memes or the storytelling.</p><p>It’s for the fact that Sokka will, without fail, somehow segue into talking about his husband.</p><p>(Cue a collective sigh in Sokka’s fandom.)</p><p>As far as anyone’s concerned, Sokka’s husband is pretty much the physical embodiment of beauty, or at least that’s how Sokka describes him. Korra’s sure that she’s heard enough about “<em>my husband's lovely hair</em>” and “<em>my husband’s lovely cheeks</em>” to draw out a picture of her professor’s husband from memory. (And that’s saying something, considering how she hasn’t even met the guy before.)</p><p>(Even Sokka and his husband’s love story sounds like one for the ages.)</p><p>“So in this diagram, you can see how the steam travels up through here in order to power the turbine,” Sokka explains during one of their more lecture-y classes. He motions to the diagram on the board and traces a route with his pointer. “Isn’t it wonderful?”</p><p>Seventy-five heads nod in unison across the lecture hall.</p><p>“Speaking of steam, this reminds me of the first time I met my husband,” Sokka sighs dreamily, taking off his glasses and rubbing them on his shirt before putting them back on. Korra readies herself for the inevitable. “Y’know, back in the day, when we didn’t have all this fancy technology you people have, you’d actually meet people in person, the old-fashioned way. I was on this trip with my friends in Taiwan, and we happened to go to a hot spring—”</p><p>The rest of the story plays out like a high-stakes, emotional arc of a K-drama. Sokka meets his husband and it’s love at first sight, and they spend a blissful week exploring night markets together before his husband has to leave out of family obligations, then Sokka takes a redeye flight to his husband’s childhood home and engages in an impressive haiku battle with the head of the house for his husband’s hand—and Korra swears she isn’t making <em>any of it up, because who would have the big brain energy to think up of all of this?</em> (Definitely not her.) She’s got it all written down in OneNote, and by the time Sokka finally snaps out of his story and goes back to the lesson, Korra swears that she could practically write an entire screenplay on the Shakespearean love story that is Sokka and his husband.</p><p>And then it happens again a week later. Korra’s sitting there, nibbling on some macaroons that Asami made for her and wondering when class is going to start when Sokka suddenly whirls into the classroom, his face practically glowing from the gigantic grin on his face.</p><p>“My guys, my gals, and my non-binary pals,” Sokka announces loudly, because <em>folks</em> is too old-fashioned and <em>class</em> is too boring, “I have some exciting news!”</p><p>The entire class falls silent.</p><p>“I will be ending class early today.”</p><p>A chorus of groans echoes in the air. <em>No way</em>, Korra thinks. <em>Why would he do this to us?</em></p><p>“I’m sure all of you are very upset—”</p><p>“Damn right.”</p><p>“—Huan, <em>language</em>.” Sokka clears his throat. “But I have a <em>very</em> important engagement with my <em>absolutely wonderful, totally magnificent husband</em> and I can’t miss any second of it. So I’m going to start out by giving you your homework. Your assignment for the week is to build a Rube Goldberg machine out of household items found in your bathroom.”</p><p>(Korra starts thinking about the hundreds of ways she can stack Asami’s various shampoos and body washes into a tower.)</p><p>Sokka claps his hands. “I can’t wait to see what y’all come up with for this assignment.” He shakes his head fondly. “The things I do for Zuko, honestly.”</p><p>
  <em>Huh?</em>
</p><p>Someone in class raises their hand. “Um, Sokka?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Who’s Zuko?”</p><p>“Zuko? Oh, he’s my husband, of course.” Sokka beams from ear to ear. “Maybe you’ve seen the gorgeous guy in the literature department? Long, flowing hair? Looks like he just stepped straight out of a wuxia novel?”</p><p>You can practically hear a pin drop in the room.</p><p>Sokka continues. “Oh, maybe I’ll ask if he wants to come in sometime! Now then, onto today’s lesson…”</p><p>The professor turns around and starts drawing diagrams on the board, oblivious to the seventy-five pairs of eyes staring straight at the back of his wolftail.</p><p>Zuko?</p><p>Hold on. There’s only one person that Korra can think of when she hears that name.</p><p>The classroom titters to a slight crescendo.</p><p>
  <em>Are you serious?</em>
</p><p>✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦</p><p>For some professors, it’s just unfortunate that their reputation precedes them.</p><p>Professor Zuko Huo happens to be one of those unlucky few.</p><p>He’s honestly a great professor, in Asami’s opinion. (And she would know; she’s taken three of his courses and TA’d for his introductory Shakespeare class since last semester.) Professor Huo may be cranky and crotchety and practically catatonic before his requisite morning mug of tea, but he’s actually a terrific professor—</p><p>—or a terrifying pedant, depending on how you behave in his class. Professor Huo is notorious for memorizing the names and the faces of all his students before the first day of class, and sitting in class has that same feeling like you’re walking through a mine-riddled field by yourself. You never know if he’s going to call on you to recite a sonnet from memory or to offer up a lengthy, thought-out interpretation on one of Hamlet’s soliloquies. Being in Professor Huo’s class is like playing Wheel of Fortune, except half of the wheel screams “<em>TERROR</em>” while the other half of the wheel screams “<em>not terror but still scary</em>”. Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation.</p><p>(Korra swears it’s because of the scar. Asami is hesitant to agree with her girlfriend—until she walks into class one day only to witness Professor Huo verbally spar with Zhao from cinema studies over the authenticity of Baz Luhrmann’s <em>Romeo + Juliet</em>. She watches as Professor Huo practically burns Zhao’s entire argument into a neat pile of ash on the lectern in front of a hundred petrified undergrads.)</p><p>(Yes. It’s probably the scar.)</p><p>It probably doesn’t help that rumors swirl around campus about Professor Huo’s father being a corrupt member of the board of advisors for BRU who had somehow made off with a hefty chunk of the endowment before being caught by the authorities. Asami makes it a firm point not to judge anyone by their parent’s actions (I mean, she <em>knows</em> what it’s like to be in that position), and she wonders how Professor Huo manages to take everything in stride.</p><p>(Poorly. That’s the answer Asami’s looking for.)</p><p>But suddenly, there’s a new rumor boiling up around campus (no pun intended). Asami catches wind of this during a late-night study session with Korra and the rest of the krew. They’re all huddled up in Mako and Bolin’s apartment, Korra attempting to balance a ballpoint pen on her lip while Asami leans against her shoulder, her eyes lost in the sea of words floating on the assignment she’s supposed to be grading. Bolin—the baby of the krew and the only one blissfully soaring through his classes in the face of midterms season, that damned freshman—is sprawled out on the couch, the screechy sounds of a <em>Keeping Up With the Kardashians</em> rerun blaring from the TV in front of him.</p><p>“Can you turn that down?” Mako glares at his brother.</p><p>“But Kanye’s just about to propose to Kim!”</p><p>“The what now?”</p><p>“Kanye? As in Kanye West? Our lord and savior Yeezy?” Bolin almost sounds offended. “Mako—”</p><p>“Can you two take your bickering somewhere else?” Asami waves a pen in the air. “I’m trying to figure out why someone would even write an entire essay about the inherent homoeroticism between Antonio and Bassanio.”</p><p>“They were definitely gay for each other!” Bolin pipes up from the couch.</p><p>“They definitely were.” Mako’s typing on his laptop with one hand while he grasps his protein shake in the other.</p><p>“Are they as gay as Sokka and Zuko, though?” Korra taps her pen against her lips thoughtfully.</p><p>A horrific silence crashes into the living room with all the grace of an eight-ton elephant.</p><p>Mako chokes on his protein shake. Asami almost stabs herself with her pen in surprise. Even the Kardashians onscreen have fallen silent.</p><p>(Oh, wait. Bolin just turned the TV off.)</p><p>What.</p><p>What the actual fuck?</p><p>Mako is, surprisingly, the first to recover. “<em>What?</em>”</p><p>“Oh, about the gayness of Antonio and Bassanio?” Korra asks.</p><p>Asami stares at her girlfriend. “<em>No?</em>”</p><p>“Then whaddaya mean?”</p><p>“You said <em>Sokka and Zuko</em>. You’re talking about Professor Huo, right?”</p><p>“Yeah? What about him?”</p><p>“And Professor Qanik?”</p><p>Korra looks petulant. “It’s Sokka. Professor Qanik is—”</p><p>“His other dad!” Bolin cuts in.</p><p>“<em>Spirits above</em>.” Mako drops his empty smoothie bottle. It clatters on the table. “Why’d you mention Professor Huo and Professor Qanik in the first place?”</p><p>“Oh, you didn’t know?” And Korra lets the elephant loose in the room. “They’re <em>married</em>.”</p><p>The elephant gleefully rampages around the remnants of the apartment. Mako looks like he’s just had the revelation of a lifetime. Bolin just looks confused.</p><p>Asami? Asami takes matters into her own hands.</p><p>“You're kidding me.” She raises an eyebrow at her girlfriend. “That’s probably the most outlandish conspiracy theory you’ve come up with <em>by far</em>.”</p><p>“Nope.” Korra twirls her pen between her fingers. “You can check. I know you can.”</p><p>“You really doubt my sleuthing abilities?”</p><p>Korra shrugs. “I never said I did.”</p><p>Sighing, Asami reaches for her laptop and pulls up Google, her fingers flying over the keys as she pulls up tab after tab of search results. (Her reputation as the resident private investigator is on the line, after all.) She even opens up FastPeopleSearch and Whitepages, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she does her best to suss out the relationship between the engineering department’s darling and the literature department’s tyrant.</p><p>(Spoiler alert: it doesn’t take that long. There really aren’t that many people with the last name Qanik, let alone the first name Sokka. That fact, along with what little Asami knows about Professor Huo besides “<em>grumpy in the morning</em>” and “<em>father is named Ozai Huo</em>”, is enough for her to make some connections.)</p><p>It <em>probably</em> helps that there’s an entire United Republic Times wedding announcement about the two of them, complete with photos and stories and everything. Asami hovers her mouse over the featured picture and zooms in, holding a gasp. Professor Huo is practically unrecognizable, wearing a stunning silk ensemble in crimson, his eyes soft as he stares up in the eyes of a well-dressed man Asami vaguely recognizes as Professor Qanik. Asami has <em>never</em> seen her lit professor look like that, all glowing and smiling. (And those are definitely two words she’d never associate with him. Until now.)</p><p>(Asami also thinks that the two of them together definitely turn heads, and that’s saying a lot, considering how she doesn’t even bat for that team.)</p><p>Right below the picture, the article announces in formal font: “<em>Sokka Qanik and Zuko Huo were married on March 8…</em>”</p><p>—and that’s as far as Asami gets before she tells herself that <em>enough is enough</em>.</p><p>Everyone looks expectantly at her as Asami rubs her eyes, ignoring the fact that her eyeliner will smear all over her hands. <em>You should probably get some rest after this ordeal</em>, her brain helpfully provides.</p><p>Bolin prowls towards the table and settles down in the last empty chair. Mako clasps his fingers together.</p><p>Korra just stares straight into her girlfriend’s eyes. “Uh, so. Verdict?”</p><p>“I mean, I guess? Not a conspiracy?” Asami throws her hands up in the air. “I mean. The married part. They’re definitely married. Just take a look.” She hands her open laptop to her girlfriend and sits back in her chair.</p><p>“Oh <em>shit</em>.” Korra’s eyes widen as she scrolls through the page. “Mako! Bolin! Y’all gotta take a look at this!”</p><p>Asami has never seen so many confused faces hovering over her laptop in her entire life. <em>If Bolin’s eyes go even wider, they’ll eclipse the rest of his face</em>.</p><p>After what feels like an eternity, Korra shuts the laptop with a disturbing finality and hands it back to her girlfriend.</p><p>“Um. I think I need to take a nap after that. Just to, you know, process things,” and Mako’s gone, walking through his bedroom door with a click behind him. Asami watches helplessly as Bolin lets out a noncommittal grunt and waves goodnight to Korra and Asami with a <em>y’all can crash if you want, this was a fun night</em>.</p><p>The thoughts plague Asami for the rest of the evening as she tries to fall asleep. Korra’s already out cold, her arm draped over Asami’s shoulder as they snuggle against Mako and Bolin’s couch. Asami can’t get the image of Professor Huo <em>smiling</em> out of her head. The concept is so utterly foreign to her, she refuses to believe that the photo wasn’t edited or something.</p><p><em>This is definitely a joke</em>, Asami decides, so she does the next best thing: she confronts Professor Huo after class the next day.</p><p>“Professor, I have a question for you.”</p><p>Asami watches as Professor Huo turns around, one eyebrow arched. “Yes, Miss Sato?”</p><p>(Because for Professor Huo, everyone is either a mister or a miss or a miks, because he does respect everyone in his own way.)</p><p>“This is you, isn’t it.” Asami clicks to the wedding announcement on her laptop (and <em>yes</em>, she bookmarked it for “research purposes”) and shows it to her professor, watching closely for any reaction.</p><p>Professor Huo is unfazed as usual, his eyes betraying no sign of recognition. “Nope, that can’t be me.”</p><p>“But it says your name <em>right there</em>,” Asami makes a point to zoom in on the second paragraph. “Right there, see?” She starts reading aloud, “‘<em>Mr. Huo, 28, is an associate professor in the literature department at Boiling Rock University</em>.’”</p><p>“No, I don’t believe I recognize that man,” Professor Huo replies, completely unperturbed.</p><p>Asami presses on. “Are you talking about you? Or your husband?”</p><p>“What husband?”</p><p>“Professor, are we really going to do this?”</p><p>“Do what?” Professor Huo crosses his arms. “Speaking of doing things, I don’t believe we’ve talked about what topics you’re covering for your recitation this week, Miss Sato.”</p><p><em>Well, this was definitely a failure</em>, Asami rolls her eyes slightly before pulling up her notes. <em>Some people are just drowning in denial, aren’t they</em>.</p><p>✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦</p><p>If you told ten-year-old Mako that twenty-one-year-old Mako would be a lit major, the ten-year-old would probably laugh at you before clipping the back of your shin with his red Razor scooter and, well, scootering away. He’d also probably call you stupid and stick his tongue out at you, while he’s at it.</p><p>(Basically, I’m just trying to tell you that Mako would <em>never, ever, ever</em> be caught pursuing an lit major.)</p><p>Little did ten-year-old Mako know that his twenty-one-year-old self would be sitting inside Professor Huo’s advanced poetry seminar, trying his best to make sense of the underlying themes of Ginsberg’s “Howl”. It’s at times like these when Mako asks himself why he would even think of doing a lit major in the first place. Economics had been such a comfortable major, but it had only taken one intro to Shakespeare class with Professor Huo (that was only supposed to be a general requirement, mind you) to turn Mako away from capitalistic society and beckon him into the realm of humanities. Mako’s a full-on lit major now, complete with an honors program and a half-brainstormed thesis about the duality of human nature in his back pocket.</p><p>(... or whatever Mako’s got on his mind this week. He’s still trying to figure out what he wants to write about, exactly. It’s a good thing he still has time to decide.)</p><p>The entire class is huddled together in the lecture hall, the cold February air blistering in from the open window in the corner that just refuses to close for whatever reason. Professor Huo is pacing in the front of the class, his glasses winking against the glow of the overhead lights.</p><p>Mako is, for some unspeakable reason, looking off into space. The unspeakable reason lingers around his head, whispering over and over again: <em>did you know that Professor Qanik and Professor Huo are actually married?</em></p><p>(Internally, Mako curses Korra to the spirit realm and back. He throws in Asami for good measure.)</p><p><em>I hate this</em>, Mako whispers to himself, half because he doesn’t want to be in class right now and half because he thinks he’s lost the majority of his brain cells trying to figure out why the beloved prince of the engineering department would ever want to shack up with the ice king of the literature department. He’s heard from Korra that Professor Qanik is the kind of guy to crack a joke whenever possible, and from what Mako remembers of the first time someone tried to make a pun in Professor Huo’s class and ended up being called out for having bad taste in wordplay, the literature professor is definitely not someone who can take a joke. Mako cannot, for the life of him, imagine the two professors in the same room, let alone actually talking with one another.</p><p><em>I mean, they don’t even look like they’d get along with each other</em>.</p><p>“Mister Zhang,” Professor Huo intones, and Mako jerks up to attention, previous thoughts dispersing. “When Ginsberg wrote ‘<em>who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg</em>’, what do you think he was trying to represent with this imagery?”</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>(You see, like many other college students, Mako generally employs a “<em>bullshit first, think later</em>” strategy in his discussion courses. It usually works well—unless he happens to be in Professor Huo’s class, and especially when the professor decides to cold-call.)</p><p>“Uh, well—” <em>great start, Mako</em>, “—I think that the egg is supposed to represent the possibility of fertility or innocence? And the meat trucks symbolize the raw baseness of humans and carnal desire.” <em>And now a pause for effect</em>. “So I think the line is talking about how you have to dig through the carnal and animalistic desires of humans in order to fully appreciate the hope and possibility in the heart of the soul.”</p><p>(Or whatever that means. Mako genuinely has no idea what he just said. He just hopes it’s enough to get Professor Huo off his back so he can get back to his regularly scheduled programming. (Next up: continuing coverage on “<em>Mako’s brain trying to comprehend how Professor Qanik and Professor Huo are married?</em>” Stay tuned.)</p><p>Professor Huo narrows his eyes. Mako does his best not to flinch against that unwavering stare. The rest of the class is waiting with bated breath, wondering if the professor will thoroughly eviscerate Mako’s response or begrudgingly agree with the statement.</p><p>“A fascinating interpretation as always, Mister Zhang.” Professor Huo nods. “I do concur with your points about the egg, though I wonder if using ‘meat trucks’ instead of simply ‘meat’ also adds a sense of industry or capitalism to the line. All in all, an interesting reflection.”</p><p>Mako wipes back a drop of sweat from his forehead. It’s way too cold to be sweating, but Professor Huo does tend to have that effect on people.</p><p>And all of a sudden, the doors of the lecture hall swing open and ten men wearing neatly-pressed navy blue suits and red ties stride in. The entire class is almost thrown into chaos. It’s practically an unspoken rule that no one—not even the university president herself—is allowed to interrupt any of Professor Huo’s classes, and watching these ten men blatantly throw the rule out the window is enough to send every student’s heart rates through the roof.</p><p>But Mako doesn’t care about that because he only has eyes for the third man in line, the one he’s had a crush on since that one random mixer in freshman year. Slim, with elegantly coiffed hair and twinkling green eyes, Wu Shah is known for being one of the best singers on campus, and the fact that he’s a soloist with the glee club only speaks to that fact—</p><p>—<em>oh, shit.</em> Back up a second.<em> It’s the glee club</em>.</p><p>(Mako’s thought process goes a little something like this: glee club → barging into room → it’s February → <em>fuck, it’s singing valentines season</em>.)</p><p>(Which later branches off into a sub-process: <em>oh, fuck. Someone’s going to be publically humiliated</em>.)</p><p>There are only a few kinds of people at BRU who receive singing valentines. Either you’re already in a committed relationship and you just want to make a point to all of your single friends that you’re happily cuffed, <em>or</em> you’re just really, really desperate to woo someone, <em>or</em> you’re just playing a practical joke on your friend at their expense. Mako wonders which category this singing valentine falls in.</p><p>A collective gasp goes up in the room when Wu steps forward from the line and pulls out a red rose, handing it to Professor Huo with a flourish.</p><p>“This is a special request from a very special someone who would like me to tell you,” and Wu hesitates slightly, “that he’s so very lucky to have married a wonderful man like you.”</p><p>Professor Huo turns a curious shade of red. It’s not the “<em>I’m-disappointed-in-you-and-I’ll-tell-you-why</em>” red (the kind he uses for students with subpar discussion responses), but it’s also not the “<em>I-seriously-abhor-your-guts-and-I’ll-tell-you-why</em>” red either (the kind he reserves for Zhao and Zhao only). No, it takes a second for the class to catch on that Professor Huo isn’t stressed or angry.</p><p><em>He’s embarrassed</em>.</p><p>“Um,” the professor begins (and he <em>never</em> stutters), “this is very nice, but it’s wholly unnecessary. I must humbly request that you leave so I can go back to my lecture.”</p><p>Wu rocks back and forth on his feet. “Well, you see, this special someone told me that you’d say something like that, and he would like me to tell you that ‘<em>there’s no way you’re getting out of this, darling</em>.’” The last part is punctuated by air quotes.</p><p>Someone’s pencil rolls off their desk and falls to the floor with a <em>clink</em>.</p><p>Wu looks like he wants to swallow back every single word he said, and for a moment, Mako debates if he should just get out of his seat, grab his crush by the arm, and escape from the classroom.</p><p>He doesn’t expect to see Professor Huo pinch the bridge of his nose and let out the angstiest of sighs. “<em>Fine</em>. Just get it over with.”</p><p>“It would be my pleasure!” Wu grins happily before clearing his throat. “This is actually a special singing sonnet, courtesy of yours truly and the rest of my glee club family.”</p><p>(A singing sonnet? <em>What in the actual f—</em>)</p><p>Mako doesn’t even get to finish his thought before Wu begins warbling “<em>Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?</em>” and launches himself into one of the most dramatic and melodic interpretations of Sonnet 18 anyone has ever witnessed. Professor Huo’s face is practically purple, and around the room, students are pulling out their phones to record what will go down in BRU history as the sappiest, most romantic singing valentines in recent history.</p><p>The entire debacle is equally horrifying and amusing, but the worst part?</p><p>Mako thinks he’s falling even harder for that feisty singer.</p><p>✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦</p><p>In hindsight, Bolin should’ve seen this coming from a mile away. So <em>maybe</em> it wasn’t the greatest idea to start his final project less than a week before the due date, but c’mon! A college freshman needs to live a little now and then, doesn’t he?</p><p>(At least Bolin doesn’t drink. He counts that as a win on his college checklist.)</p><p>(Besides, it’s not like he has a choice anyways. BRU’s engineering regimen is strict and unyielding, with most students taking six classes every semester. Plus, Bolin’s already going above and beyond with <em>seven</em> classes, and that’s not even counting the hours he spends on the robotics team. No one does that unless they’re certified insane.)</p><p>(Or unless they’re one Bolin Zhang.)</p><p>Science has always been Bolin’s favorite subject in school. He had aced chemistry and physics in high school, so when college apps season had come around and Bolin was looking into different schools, he naturally came to the conclusion that BRU was the best place to go. (That, and his brother just so happens to be there. It’s a fun little bonus on the side.)</p><p>By the time Bolin finishes up his first MEME class with Sokka, he’s already on his laptop and changing his bioengineering major to mechanical engineering &amp; materials exploration. Why? No one knows. Not even Bolin can give you a straight answer. Maybe it’s because of the memes. Or maybe it’s because Sokka’s the head of the MEME department. Or maybe it’s because of what Sokka says to Bolin that one time when Bolin shows up to his office hours asking questions about the material they covered in class that day.</p><p>“I think you have so much potential to be a great MEME major, Bolin.” Sokka looks almost sagelike in his chair. “And if you do decide to choose MEME, I’d love to be your advisor.”</p><p>Everyone knows it’s a Big Deal™ for a professor to recognize a student on sight. It’s an Even Bigger Deal™ when the professor offers to be your advisor. Or at least that’s what Mako says when Bolin fills his big brother in on what happened in office hours during dinner that night.</p><p>“Whoa,” Mako almost drops his chopsticks into his bowl. “He said that?”</p><p>Bolin slurps his noodles. “Yeah? What about it?”</p><p>“You have no idea.” Mako shakes his head. “Professor Qanik just said that to you? Just like that? Damn.” He shakes his head. “It took me almost half a year to get Professor Huo to agree to be my thesis advisor. ”</p><p>“Hm.” Bolin taps his fingers on the table. So this is, indeed, a Big Deal™ that he surely can’t pass up. He makes up his mind to visit Sokka’s office hours, and by the next MEME class, Bolin is the newest <em>and</em> youngest MEME major at BRU, grinning with that delirious energy all MEME majors seem to have for some reason. He can’t even begin to describe the sheer excitement vibrating in his veins.</p><p>It’s all fun and memes—as they say—until it’s not, and Bolin is suddenly hit with the riptide of final projects and exams that threatens to pull him out into the sea of actual failure. He spends most of his time literally (and figuratively) flailing around, trying to figure out what topic he’s going to cover for his MEME final project.</p><p>Bolin’s flailing around, trying to figure out how to brainstorm topics for his final project for his MEME class. He’s so lost, he decides to seek out help from the only place he knows: Sokka’s office hours.</p><p>The walk to Sokka’s office is dark and foreboding, the lights flickering in the halls of the engineering department when Bolin finally manages to make it inside the building from the off-campus apartment he shares with Mako. It’s been raining for a solid week, and he makes sure to shake his umbrella at the entrance before clunking forward, practically soaked from head to toe in the finest rain the United Republic has to offer. He takes a second to shoot off a quick text to Mako about getting pho after his office hours and finally makes his way to the second floor where all the professors’ offices are located. Sokka’s office is all the way down the hall, and Bolin can hear his footsteps echo off the walls of the hallway as he finally makes it to his final destination. The door is slightly ajar, and Bolin pushes in—</p><p>—only to stop, a squeak caught in his throat as he internally freaks out at the scene in front of him. Sokka’s there, of course (it’s his office), lounging in his chair, but that’s not the part that freaks Bolin out. It’s the person leaning against the desk that has him choking back air.</p><p><em>Everyone</em> on campus knows about the scary-ass lit professor who single-handedly brought down the entire cinema studies department with a slew of Shakespearean insults. It’s practically an urban legend that every freshman learns about during orientation. Mako had laughed it off, saying that it wasn’t Professor Huo’s fault that he had this sort of reputation with students and <em>he really isn’t that scary of a prof, and I can say that because I had three classes with him, so don’t listen to those rumors, okay?</em> Bolin had brushed it off and laughed, mostly because an engineering student literally doesn’t have any reason to go to the literature department in the first place, so he’s never going to see this Professor Huo person in real life.</p><p>Until now.</p><p>Bolin ducks down as much as his shaking knees can hold him up, doing his best to stay hidden because <em>Professor Huo is the one leaning against Sokka’s desk</em>, his dark hair tied back in a long braid that ripples down his back. Bolin watches as the icy features of the literature professor’s face melt when Sokka reaches up to touch his cheek.</p><p>(Wait a second. Didn’t Korra say something about the two professors being married? Or was that just a fever dream he had before midterms last semester? Bolin seriously can’t remember right now. All he wants to do is to ask Sokka about the final project and to leave as soon as possible while risking the wrath of the demon of the literature department.)</p><p>“I thought you had a faculty meeting today, sweetheart,” Sokka says. The word <em>sweetheart</em> ricochets around the room and figuratively stabs Bolin in the head because he can’t imagine anyone calling Professor Huo a <em>sweetheart</em>, of all things.</p><p>“It was cancelled,” Professor Huo replies.</p><p>“And you decided to visit me, hm?” Sokka stands up from his chair, and Bolin realizes just how tall his professor really is, towering over Professor Huo. There’s a hush in the air as the engineering professor leans down to cradle the literature professor’s face in his hands—</p><p><em>Crash</em>.</p><p>Unfortunately, the combination of heavy backpack + eavesdropping from the door does wonders for Bolin’s balance, and he topples through the door and into the office.</p><p><em>Dear Agni, let me die a sweet and painless death</em>.</p><p>Professor Huo immediately jumps away, his arms crossed in a defensive stance, his face reddening. Sokka reaches up to scratch his wolftail, a dark blush painting across his cheeks. Bolin just wants to perish altogether, final project be damned.</p><p>“Um,” he groans from his position on the floor. “Sokka, I was wondering if I could ask you a question about the final project?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah! Of course, Bolin!” Sokka walks over and reaches down to pull Bolin up. “Sure thing, always. I mean. Helping students. Yes. Final project. Yes. We can. Yes. Talk about it.”</p><p>As if things can’t get any worse, the cell phone on Sokka’s desk starts blaring the opening lines to the chorus of “<em>Secret Tunnel</em>”.</p><p>“Gimme a second?” Sokka picks up his phone. “I gotta take this call, okay?”</p><p>And then he’s gone, leaving Bolin standing there, dripping water all over the carpet while awkwardly trying to avoid interacting with Professor Huo. The clock on the wall ticks slowly, and it’s like time is slowing down just to prolong Bolin’s internal suffering.</p><p>When Professor Huo finally speaks, Bolin just about gets whiplash trying to make eye contact with the professor. “So you refer to Sokka by his first name?”</p><p>“Um. Don’t you?” Bolin retorts, immediately wishing that he could take Ctrl + Z his words.</p><p>Professor Huo looks aghast but he doesn’t say anything, and that’s the scariest part when the room plunges back into awkward silence.</p><p><em>Are you there, Agni? It’s me, Bolin. Wondering if you can just yeet me out of here right now. Please and thank you</em>.</p><p>“Um, sir?” Bolin tries to break through the atmosphere in the room.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Are you sure he isn’t your husband?”</p><p>“Yep, a hundred percent.” Professor Huo murmurs. Bolin blinks wildly, missing the tiniest of smiles that darts across the normally stoic literature professor’s face and disappears without a trace.</p><p>“Okay, cool! Well, uh, it was nice to meet you,” Bolin bows deeply, “but I think I’ll just, y’know, like, come back later or something. I think.”</p><p>He rushes out of the room without looking back.</p><p><em>Man, I can’t wait to see Mako’s face when I tell him what just happened</em>.</p><p>✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦</p><p>(If Bolin had stayed for just a minute longer, he might’ve seen Sokka sneak out from the back office to wrap his arms around Professor Huo’s waist and press a fire-light kiss to his ear, watching how his husband’s face lights up in a shade of crimson rivaling the colors of a sunset.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as always, kudos/comments are appreciated! thanks for reading :&gt;</p><p>(10/5: side note: if you're going to borrow the surnames i've used, please let me know. i hope you'll consider a credit somewhere)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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